Tevinter Soldier
by JayRain
Summary: AU. When Theo Trevelyan fell into the abyss at Adamant the Inquisition limped on and Dorian struggled to work through his loss to honor Theo's memory. But the Venatori grow more powerful each day, and a shadowy Assassin, capable of overcoming the Inquisition's best, threatens to undo what little gains they've made. Dorian watched Theo fall, so it must be impossible... or is it?
1. The Fall

_Chapter 1: The Fall_

"We're making significant dents into the Venatori," Theo said, gesturing to the map on the makeshift war table. It wasn't as detailed or as large as the one back at Skyhold, but the variety of pins stabbed into it marked off sites of victories throughout this part of Western Orlais. Just now his green eyes were fixed on a gap in the pins on the map. "If we go to Adamant, we can strike a definitive blow."

Cullen rubbed his eyes and scratched at the stubble growing in on his chin and cheeks. Between the sun and the lyrium withdrawal, and the long nights of planning, he was exhausted and barely keeping it together. "I don't know that we have the troops for a full-scale siege," he said.

It was the wrong thing to say. Dorian knew it the moment Cullen opened his mouth. Theo's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched just a little tighter. "Perhaps we can wait?" he ventured. Though he wasn't one of the Inquisitor's advisors, he'd become adept at mediating what Theo wanted to do, versus what the advisors suggested he needed to do.

"You heard Eremond! He's making a _demon army_ to storm the Deep Roads," Theo said, his cheeks flushed. "And once the old gods are dead, what then? Let the darkspawn loose? Turn the army on the rest of Thedas?" He glanced down at his glowing hand. "We can stop him. Stop this. We've seen the future, and we're the only ones who can stop it from happening."

"I hate when you get so impassioned," Cullen said at last. "If we can get the advance scouts to take out some of the forces, the army might have a chance with a siege."

The tension melted out of Theo and he exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you, Cullen."

Cullen just nodded his acknowledgement and headed for his quarters. Theo headed out as well, Dorian following. They walked down the halls of Griffon Wing Keep toward the room set aside as the Inquisitor's quarters. The halls were quiet and dark, though still retained some of the heat from the hot daylight. "Don't say it," Theo said after a few paces in silence.

"You know I can't avoid speaking my mind," Dorian told him. "It is a rather brilliant mind at that." Theo sighed as they entered their room. "You have advisors for a reason."

Theo tugged off his sweat-soaked shirt, dropped it on the floor, and then fell back on the bed. He closed his eyes. "I know, and I understand the need for caution. But there's also a need for action."

"Eremond really got under your skin," Dorian said quietly. He slipped off his robes, letting them drop into a pool of silk and samite on the stone floor at his feet. He sat beside Theo and brushed his too-long hair off his forehead. Theo's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and his breathing eased as he relaxed.

"He's not under yours?" Theo asked in disbelief.

"Just because he's also Tevinter doesn't mean I care for him and what he stands for," Dorian said. "I thought we'd been through this with the Venatori."

"We did, but Eremond…"

Dorian nodded knowingly. "Because he's a Magister. In that case, we went over this already with Alexius. He was also a Magister, _and_ my mentor." He took Theo's hand and kissed it. "My loyalties have been with the Inquisition from day one."

"I never doubted your loyalty." He twined his fingers with Dorian's and tugged gently.

Dorian followed the hint and reclined next to the Inquisitor. "I know. But it's not a question of loyalties. It's more an issue of fear." Theo turned his quizzical gaze on Dorian, the dim firelight reflecting there. "I support you totally. Though with each mission we go on, the dangers increase and I fear losing you."

Theo smiled. "You won't lose me, Dorian. I walked out of the Fade once. I could do it again. I _would_ do it again if it meant getting back to you." He cupped Dorian's cheek gently and placed a light kiss on his lips. "Adamant is an old fortress. Our siege engines can take it. We have good forces. All we need to do is take down Eremond and Clarel."

"I fear my confidence is rubbing off on you in the worst ways," Dorian said, though he was glad to see Theo taking charge, not backing down from a fight or deferring to others. But as they slipped beneath the sheets and the chill of the desert night crept in, he still could not quash his own fears. Magisters, monsters, demons… he could face those. They were easy enemies. But his own fear, and the thought of losing the one man he'd come to love, was harder.

They stood before the walls of Adamant as the battering ram pounded relentlessly on the front gate. Theo had an arrow nocked; Dorian had a spell ready to fire off. Bull paced restlessly, holding his huge maul as easily as the others held knives. He was a mountain of muscle and tension, ready for a fight. Dorian wasn't sure if the Bull inspired the ranks of soldiers, or frightened them.

Suddenly the ram crashed through, reducing the gate to sad splinters. The sound of Wardens and Venatori within the walls grew louder. The ram was hardly out of the way before Bull was climbing through the shattered gate. Dorian grabbed Theo's arm briefly. "Don't do anything stupid," he chided, though he smiled.

Theo grinned back. "Bull took all the stupid with him, so don't worry," he said. His face fell slightly as the shouts began turning to screams as Bull began his work. "Are you with me?" he asked, looking young and scared in the billowing smoke.

"Til the end," Dorian said. Though it was a most inopportune moment, he pulled Theo in for a kiss.

"For the Inquisition!" Theo bellowed as they broke apart, and he barreled into the fray.

Nothing stupid, indeed.

Theo managed to stay on the edges of the fighting though, moving through the shadows and picking off the opposition with well-timed arrows. Dorian followed his lead, especially when he realized that Theo was slowly making his way closer to the inner keep. Bull followed them, keeping enemies at bay and beckoning to Cassandra. The Seeker slammed a warden out of the way and ran to catch up with them. "Seeker. Take out whatever mages you can," Bull ordered. Theo opened his mouth to protest. "No. You may be the Boss, but I'm Ben-Hassrath. We need strategy, I make strategy. And you're the only one who can do that… glowy thingy," he added and Theo couldn't help but smile.

"So much for him taking the stupid, eh?" Dorian murmured as they slunk through the darkness into the quiet of the inner keep.

"The night's still young," Theo said with a grin.

They met Hawke and Stroud on a ledge overlooking the courtyard. Hawke was having a hard time keeping Stroud from rushing down in his anger. Clarel stood beside Eremond, her brandished knife glinting in the moonlight. The roar of fire and screams of battle were far away; only the creaking, clinking of armor could be heard.

"Bring it through, Clarel," Eremond commanded, his voice echoing over the yard.

A shifting green fade rift lit up in the center and a warden limped out from a passageway. Clarel and the old warden spoke, too low for Dorian to hear from his vantage point. But he did see the man nod, see the gleam of the blade as it sliced down, and the blood, black in the moonlight as it gushed out of the man's neck.

Stroud screamed and was climbing down; Hawke fired off a Force spell. Bull and Cassandra both swore and followed Stroud. And sure enough, Theo was following them all, his glowing hand sparking as he made for the shifting, sparkling rift. It was Dorian's turn to swear as Theo all but jumped down, hitting the ground and rolling before springing to his feet and running toward the rift.

The creepy solemnity of the courtyard was broken. Confused wardens reached for weapons and demons began to slip through the rift. Dorian cast his terror spell, and the terrified wardens added to the chaos. Eremond was yelling. No one was listening. Theo flung his hand toward the rift while Cassandra used her Seeker abilities to disable Eremond.

Maybe this would work, Dorian thought as Eremond writhed and the fade rift twisted and folded in the air under the power of Theo's mark. Dorian flung out his staff in a wide swath, conjuring a wall of fire to keep the enemy away and allow Theo the time to finish.

But his flaming wall wasn't enough to keep out the dragon that came on gigantic flapping wings, stirring up a hot wind and fanning the flames into a burning maelstrom that Dorian could not control. "Run!" he shouted to Theo.

The dragon had landed and it swept its tail like an enormous flail, sending wardens flying through the air. Theo dove out of the way, but wasn't fast enough, and the tip of the tail caught him across the hip. He stumbled back through the flames and rolled to the ground and lay there, unmoving.

Dorian screamed out and fired spells at the dragon with no finesse. He didn't think, didn't strategically plan his spells, just cast with all the power he had within as he made his way to Theo. The dragon gnashed its jaws at him, but its attention was suddenly diverted by Iron Bull's war cry.

Theo was already trying to get up, wincing as he did. "I had it," he said, breathing heavily.

"I'm sure," Dorian said, helping the Inquisitor to his feet. "Where are you going now?" he snapped as Theo turned and began to limp off.

"Clarel!" Theo shouted behind him.

Dorian swore softly. He was exhausted from expending so much mana so quickly, and he shot down one of the lyrium potions he kept in a vial on his belt. It helped, though it was no substitute for true rest and regeneration. Hawke and Stroud joined him as they dashed across the ramparts.

"STOP!" Theo suddenly cried, and Dorian halted, throwing his staff out to protect Hawke and Stroud from barreling headlong into the sudden gout of dragon fire that crossed their walkway. The heat was searing; Dorian flung his arm up to protect his eyes and the silly, vain side of himself that even the Inquisition couldn't squish, cursed the fact his eyebrows were probably singed off.

The dragon roared and flapped away and when the fire dissipated they saw Theo standing there, holding his bow. "She's around the corner," he said, breathing heavily as Dorian and the others caught up with him. "I'm fine," he added more quietly, catching Dorian's concerned eye. "We'll catch up with Clarel, stop this, and then head back home for drinks and bed."

"And a bath," Dorian added, brushing ash and dust off of Theo's shoulder.

"And a bath," Theo agreed with a grin.

But when they reached Clarel, there was very little left of her. The dragon had circled around the other side of Adamant and attacked, leaving a staff, some boots, and a slick of blood black in the moonlight.

"Looks like it did our job for us," Hawke said with a raised eyebrow. She leaned on her staff and they all watched as the dragon finished chewing on Clarel.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Dorian finally said. "But shouldn't we attempt to finish it off before we meet the Warden Commander's fate?"

Dorian's voice of reason spurred them to action. Theo nocked an arrow and pulled back. Stroud brought up his shield. Hawke fired off an ice spell, and they let loose. The arrow tore through the dragon's wing; the ice froze its jaws and it began to thrash about. It turned its glowing baleful eyes upon them and managed to break the ice around its jaws.

The wings were damaged, but it could still run. It didn't let its size hold it back, its wings and legs pulling down columns and stones as it pursued them.

"Run!" Hawke shouted, and they all turned. She slammed the butt of her staff into the stones of the rampart and the walkway began to rumble and shake. With the first step of the dragon's feet the stones began to fall away.

They ran as the dragon kept up pursuit in spite of the falling walkway. It was gaining ground. Dorian ran, the very air burning his lungs as he tried to stay ahead of the rampaging death machine behind him. Stroud was beside him, Hawke behind them… where was Theo?

Dorian turned just in time to see the dragon fall through the collapsing walkway. Theo met his eyes as he tried to outrun the falling bricks and stones. Reached out his hand toward Dorian, who couldn't move fast enough to grab his hand. The dust plumes filled the sky and Theo's scream echoed in the ensuing night.


	2. The Aftermath

_Chapter 2: The Aftermath_

Cullen himself searched through the rubble in the hot days following the siege at Adamant Fortress. The Inquisition could call this a win on the map; but even after days of turning every stone over there was no sign of the Inquisitor. "Search again," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Search again."

"It's not going to happen," Bull said quietly, clapping a huge hand on Cullen's shoulder. "We knew we could lose men."

"I just never thought we'd actually lose the Inquisitor," Cullen said in a low voice.

They were speaking low, but there was no way Dorian couldn't overhear. He'd kept his ears open for any cry for help, any moan of pain. He'd expended his mana clearing slabs of stone. He'd expended his energy walking the ramparts and looking for _any_ sign of Theo. While he was disinclined to accept Bull's assessment of the situation, he had to accept that the big Qunari was right.

"He did this because he wanted to stop the Venatori from using the Wardens," Dorian said. The others looked up and actually saw him for the first time in days. The morning after Theo fell no one seemed to want to look at Dorian, as if acknowledging him would make his pain worse. It was actually worse to be ignored, to feel the anguish and have no one to go to. He took a deep breath. "We have Eremond in custody and Clarel is dead. The next thing we have to do is keep the Venatori from assassinating Celene."

To his surprise Iron Bull joined him and clapped him on the shoulder with a huge hand. "I'm sorry, Dorian," he said in his low voice, his single eye searching Dorian's gaze. The big man saw so much more than anyone else, and Dorian prayed he wouldn't break down under the stare. He lightly squeezed Dorian's shoulder once. "Never thought I'd agree with a Vint, but Dorian is right. We should focus on the next phase." He squinted up at the wall above, where Hawke's force spell had caused the collapse. "No one could have survived that. Hell, I don't even know how that dragon survived."

Of course there were theories Dorian had, but nothing he could put words to, and nothing that didn't sound completely insane. He allowed Bull to help him to his feet and made himself mount his horse and head back to Griffon Wing Keep. Then to Skyhold.

Of course when they arrived back at Skyhold there were questions to answer. Leliana and Josephine wanted to hear what had happened several times, and then when they thought of more questions, they needed to hear the story again. Dorian found himself speaking in monotone, trying to distance his emotions from his voice. It was the first time in his life he'd ever considered that Tranquility might actually be preferable to the life he was living.

"You don't want to be Tranquil," Bull told him, and when Dorian glared at him, Bull gently plucked the book out of his hands. _A History of Tranquility_. "It hurts. It hurts worse than anything you've ever felt, and nothing will ever come close to it," Bull said. "It would be easier not to feel at all."

Dorian snatched the book back. "Go… hit something," he snarled. "You Qunari wouldn't know emotion if it danced naked with ten silk scarves right in front of you."

Bull raised an eyebrow. "Huh, so that's emotion? I thought it was just the girl at that place in the plaza in northern Minrathous." He sighed. "What you said back at Adamant? You're right. It's what the boss would want, and if we care about what he wanted, we'll see the Inquisition through."

Dorian just nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak around the ball of broken glass and metal spikes lodged in his throat. Wordlessly he dropped the book and pushed past Bull and headed for the tavern. He was going to drink himself into oblivion. If he couldn't be Tranquil, maybe he could vomit up his emotions.

* * *

Officially, the search for Theo had never ended. Bull dispatched the Chargers weekly, usually to take on some other mission that needed tending to, though the unspoken order was to keep an eye and ear out for anything about the Inquisitor. They always returned empty, but the fact that the Inquisition's top advisors still believed in Theo's survival was enough to keep the Inquisition alive.

While the existing fade rifts couldn't be closed, the Inquisition sent out troops and supplies and helped people in affected areas relocate. Josephine brokered deals and set up alliances, while Leliana dealt in secrets, often dodging knives in the dark as she worked to find out more about Theo's whereabouts.

"If we can just get to the ball at the Winter Palace, we'll be able to relax," she said, staring out over the Frostback Mountains.

Dorian often joined her these days. The ravens didn't ask questions, and somehow, being so close to someone who was so devoted to finding Theo helped. Though with each passing week, and eventually each passing day, Theo became more and more of a ghost story. "Do you think it will matter?" he asked.

Leliana leaned on the railing next to him. "The vision of the future that you experienced occurred because of Celene's assassination. If we stop that, we may have a chance. As for defeating Corypheus…"

Dorian nodded. She'd confirmed exactly what everyone thought. There was no guarantee of success, even if they did interrupt the Venatori's plans.

"We've intercepted several Venatori cells, and tracked their correspondence. Everyone is looking for him," she reassured Dorian. Then she sighed and rubbed her eyes. They were red and a little glassy and Dorian realized that he'd been so wrapped up in his own pain that he didn't realize how everyone else was taking Theo's disappearance. "I miss him," she confessed. "He only wanted… wants to do the best for us. For anyone."

And then Dorian was hugging Leliana, her shoulders shaking under his arms. He let his own tears fall into her disheveled red hair. Even though he was a necromancer; and she was a spy mistress who could hide bodies and order assassinations that could never be traced back to her; they both allowed themselves to feel the anguish of loss fully for the first time.

Josephine came up looking for Leliana a bit later; one look at the spy mistress and at Dorian, and she began crying, too. It wasn't long before they were joined by Cullen, and then the entire inner circle was up in the rookery torn between tears and laughter as they remembered Theo. Krem came up with bottles of wine and ale, and then they were drinking, toasting Theo, getting drunk and falling asleep draped over one another with the ravens cawing softly.


	3. To See An Empire Fall

_Chapter 3: To See An Empire Fall_

"Ready?" Bull asked, staring through the gates to the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. He looked slightly ridiculous in his tailored Inquisition formalwear, though he did a good job of not looking uncomfortable. It had to be his Ben-Hassrath training. He managed to cross his bulky arms over his bulkier chest.

"As any of us will ever be," Varric said.

Dorian said nothing, but he knew all eyes were on him. In the months since Theo's disappearance they'd tiptoed around him, as if afraid he'd break at the mere mention of the Inquisitor. The truth was, he ached to talk about Theo and remember him, and even voice the hope that he was still alive somewhere. In the end he'd taken to having long talks with Cole, the spirit boy, and taking long walks through the Fade.

"Harboring helpless hope beyond borders of reason," Cole had murmured as they set off toward Halamshiral.

"Is it hopeless?" Dorian asked.

Cole closed his eyes and did that funny thing where he seemed to waver in and out of the solid world. "Nothing is ever hopeless," Cole finally, unhelpfully, said.

Dorian had grown up in Tevinter. He knew not to cling to hope. But it was so _damned hard._

He knew Cole was around here somewhere; everyone had a job to do tonight. While the missing Inquisitor put a damper on the peace talks, they were still set to occur, and Empress Celene had left the invitation open. Cassandra and Josephine would act in Theo's stead, while the others were stationed about the palace with orders to check in with Leliana or Cullen.

The Winter Palace was the epitome of Orlesian extravagance. But even with so much space, it felt stuffy and Dorian felt the walls closing in. His clothing felt too tight. He longed to tug the collar and loosen it a bit, but his breeding and etiquette training kept him smiling even under his mask. Finally he excused himself and headed out to the gardens.

Out here a string trio played soft music and the scent of flowers was heady and sweet. A warm breeze blew, and if Dorian closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was back home in Tevinter and he'd never joined the Inquisition.

"And so the Tevinter mage finds himself far from home, like a peacock among pigeons."

Dorian cracked one eye open to see a woman, a peacock among pigeons herself, standing before him. Though she wore a heavy Orlesian-styled ball gown, she was clearly not from Orlais. Her hair, raven-black, seemed to catch the moonlight with glints of silver or green. "You're the apostate," he noted. "The Empress's occult advisor."

"The Apostate. T'is a charming epithet. Though most call me Morrigan," she said. "And you are part of an Inquisition without an Inquisitor," she said in a lower voice, though there were very few people around.

"Yes, that does put a damper on things," Dorian said. Normally he'd have thought his mask ridiculous. It covered his face, which was a disservice to everyone. But he also prided himself on being able to play the Game better than any masked Orlesian. It was just another perk of growing up Tevinter. But Morrigan's comment twisted a knife deep in his heart, and even with the mask it was obvious that she'd struck deep.

She offered a sly smile rather than sympathy. "The Venatori know this," she told him.

"How could they not?" Dorian snapped. He'd barely been hanging on was it was. He hadn't wanted to come to Halamshiral, but Josephine believed it best for the Inquisition to show a united front, even in Theo's absence. "It was thanks to their Maker-forsaken efforts at Adamant that we're short an Inquisitor." He felt his mana surging beneath his skin, like a too-ripe plum about to burst from the slightest pressure. Her mana surged as well, forming a subtle protective barrier around herself.

"Careful, mage," Morrigan said. "There are those among us tonight who would use your lack of control against you."

"I'm quite controlled, thank you." Dorian quelled the storm of magic roiling inside. He compartmentalized his feelings. This was a party, but it was also business, and he was here to conduct himself on behalf of the Inquisition. It was what Theo would have wanted. "Care to share what you know? Or is your price too steep for me."

"You and I seek the same thing," Morrigan said and for one passing moment her sly golden eyes were concerned. "We both know Celene's safety is jeopardized. What _I_ know is who threatens that safety." She reached into the beaded reticule hanging from her waist and withdrew a small parcel wrapped in black silk. She handed it to Dorian.

Dorian could feel the magic emanating from the object, like steam off a pond on a cool morning. He gingerly took it from Morrigan and peeled back the folds of dark silk. He nodded once, mouth pressed into a grim line, when he saw what it was. The curved blade shone in the light of the moon overhead and the torches burning in sconces on nearby pillars. "A Venatori sacrificial blade," he said, and she nodded.

"And it has been used of late," she told him. She waved her hand over it and shadows appeared on the smooth blade, like echoes of the blood that had fueled its magic. "The Venatori are here; they have _been_ here, before you arrived." Her voice was heavy and grim.

"What of the peace talks?" Dorian asked. Already he was running through his mind how to alert Leliana and Josephine, Cullen and Iron Bull. Peace talks couldn't progress with one of the major parties dead. And just who and where were the Venatori in their midst? The palace was huge, and secret passages abounded: the better for the nobles to play their games, after all. Dorian _needed_ to get to Leliana or Bull; he wasn't cut out for intrigue this deep.

Bull saved him the trouble. He strolled into the garden, looking perfectly casual, though Dorian could see the tension in his gait. He'd undone the top two buttons of his formal jacket. He paused before Dorian and Morrigan and bowed slightly to her. "Ma'am," he said a bit stiffly. "We have problems. I've already let Red know."

Dorian showed Bull the knife, and explained how Morrigan had given it to him. "How do we know you're not Venatori?" Bull asked Morrigan, glaring down at her with his single eye.

Morrigan gazed up at him, hardly perturbed. "While it is true that both the Venatori and myself thrive on pride and magic, I have no desire to see the world fall to the whims of a madman," she said. "The Venatori hope to see an empire fall tonight. I hardly benefit from that. And you have the artifact as a token of my good faith," she added.

Dorian nodded once in finality. "We're going after them," he told Bull. "Morrigan?"

She bowed slightly. "I shall take my place at Celene's side and keep watch from a higher vantage." She spun, her wine-colored skirts swishing and rustling as she walked away.

Bull didn't like it, but Dorian reassured him that Morrigan, while not working for them, at least was not with the Venatori and working actively against them. Varric and Cole met them at the entrance to the servants' quarters. Dorian didn't quite recall Cole joining them on the way to Orlais, but Cole did as Cole pleased. Besides, the way he moved, flitting in and out of shadow and light, Fade and reality, could be useful.

The heralds were announcing the names of the guests, so most people had gone into the ballroom, allowing Dorian, Bull, Varric and Cole to slide into the servants' wing unnoticed. The first thing Dorian noticed was the tang of magic in the air, like metal and fire and suddenly he realized he was standing in a pool of blood with a dead elf, one of several, at his feet. He gazed around at the pools of blood that had been spilled. "This wasn't murder," he murmured. "This was sacrifice. They needed blood for something. But what?"

Cole was sitting in a pool of blood… or hovering an inch or so above it, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. "Can't control what you keep, kill and cut and beg and bleed. Time ticks closer and the arm of the Venatori will strike." He looked up, panic evident on his pale, thin face. "He's here."

"Corypheus is here? Shit," Bull muttered. Varric began looking around for red lyrium. Maybe that was the magical tang Dorian had felt…? But no, it was definitely all the blood. He'd been to a Venatori blood magic ritual before. He knew too well what it entailed.

"No, not the elder one," Cole said. He stood and flickered between Fade and reality. "Him. But not him. He is not himself."

Dorian was already fighting tension in his skull, and the way Cole went on made it even harder for him to think. "Footprints," he said instead of respond to Cole's inane babble. "Heading out to the garden."

"Come on, kid," Varric told Cole, gently nudging his elbow. Cole wavered into solidness and drew his wicked and quick knives. "Whoever he is, or isn't, we'll take him out."

The fresh air of the garden was a relief after the hot passages of the servants' wing, and the residual scent of blood was soon cleansed from Dorian's sinuses. He kept one foot in the Fade, feeling for magic and disturbances in the Veil. There were plenty there—so many it was difficult to focus and the spirits that normally attended to him and assisted his necromancy were agitated.

"This leads back to the ballroom," Bull said suddenly. "The Venatori must have wormed their way in with supplies over the last few days, and just mingled with the servants."

"And they probably looked them right in the eye and smiled, knowing they were going to slaughter them the whole time," Varric said. "I hate the red templars and the red lyrium, but these Venatori are pretty much boils on the Maker's balls as well." He looked around at the other three. "What? We _were_ talking about ballroom anyway, right?" He sighed. "My humor is wasted on you all sometimes."

The garden walk led to a wing of the palace that was under repair, but abutted the ballroom. There stood a small group of Venatori. "There are our assassins, it would appear," Dorian said, loud enough for them to hear. Sure enough, they turned. "Shall we?" he asked Bull, Varric, and Cole.

Bull just smiled and without a word charged in, horns down, catching them all off guard.

All but one.

He stood still, staring down the charging Iron Bull, face unreadable behind his horned, golden Venatori mask. He waited until Bull was nearly upon him before gracefully sidestepping the charging Qunari. He flipped a knife out of a holster on his thigh and swiped at Bull. Bull cried out, more from anger than pain. The Venatori fighter was no mage, and it surprised Dorian that a soporati would be among such an elite group tasked with something so important as killing Celene.

He didn't have time to think about it before two battle mages were firing at him, and he swept out his staff, conjuring a wall of fire in its wake. It slowed them enough for Cole to appear behind them, slicing one's throat, then stabbing the other. Varric had taken one out from a distance with Bianca, and he scattered a handful of exploding caltrops as two more rushed at him. They were blown backward, and Dorian called forth lightning to zap them and finish the job.

Or so he thought. Bull swung at his assailant, who moved impossibly quickly, anticipating every one of the Bull's attacks. While Bull usually fought with a maul or war hammer, he was a skilled hand-to-hand combatant. And yet this man was too fast for him. Then he ran toward a wall and launched himself into a back flip and landed on Bull's back. He held his gauntleted forearm against Bull's neck, pressing tightly as Bull thrashed about, struggling to breathe.

Varric fired from Bianca, catching the man in the shoulder. He let go and tumbled off of Bull, who staggered before falling to his knees. The man stood and yanked the bolt out of his shoulder. He strode toward Varric, dodging any other bolts the dwarf fired at him. Varric swore as he ran out of bolts. Dorian hastily swept his staff out with another wall of fire; but the man only pulled off the leather glove he wore on his left hand and pushed at the air in front of him, parting the flames.

His arm was covered in glowing scars where a Venatori blade had let his blood for a maleficar ritual.

His hand pulsed with magic, though he was clearly no mage.

Cole appeared behind him, daggers bared. "He's here," Cole cried out, breathless as he attacked. He moved between reality and the Fade, but the man did as well, dodging Cole's moves and even getting in some of his own. Every time he lodged his blade into Cole, he withdrew quickly and spun through the Fade-reality boundary as if the line between worlds wasn't even there.

Dorian tried to sink into the Fade himself, but there was too much going on, and suddenly Cole was down, crying and babbling about "him" and how "he" wasn't "himself". Bull was dazed, and Varric had not been built for speed. He tried throwing out what traps he had, but the Venatori assassin was too quick, and in moments he was on Varric.

"No!" Dorian shouted, shaking his head to clear it. He pushed forth a surge of dark energy, terror from the very spirits of death that lurked on the edges of the Fade. _Very_ few mages from Tevinter practiced necromancy, and his spells were usually effective even against the Venatori—and especially against non-mages.

He looked up. He dropped Varric and kicked him in the chest, sending the dwarf sprawling. He held up his hand, palm outward, and a burst of green light shattered Dorian's spell.

He was lithe, and dressed in a mustard yellow Venatori tunic over a set of leather mage armor. His left arm was bare, covered in scars where he'd been bled, and his hand pulsed. The sigil of Tevinter was branded into his shoulder. The mask covered his whole face, and his eyes were just dark shadows.

He held out his hand.

Bright green Fade energy sparked out.

Then Cole was behind him. He sliced at his exposed arm and grabbed the edge of his mask, tugging it. The man flung Cole away and stumbled, but quickly got his footing. He shook his long, dark hair out of his face and turned to face Dorian once more.

Dorian's heart nearly stopped. "Theo?"

The assassin blinked. His pupils were huge and dark in his vacant eyes. "Who in the Void is Theo?" he asked.

Dorian stared at the man before him. Without his mask, he could see the jaw line he'd kissed so many times; the angled cheekbones he'd admired; and the beautiful green eyes that looked at him blankly, without recognition. And he just stood there, unable to do anything. He dropped his staff. He would know Theo anywhere.

Theo stared back, unmoving and blinking. His hand still pulsed and he looked down at it in sudden confusion.

A scuffle of footsteps startled Dorian and he turned to see Leliana and Cullen with a few soldiers. "We came as fast as we could," Cullen said, breathing heavily. "What happened here?"

Dorian turned, but Theo was gone; only a cloud of smoke and a few last sparks of green Fade energy remained. He looked over at Cole, who was hugging himself and shaking his head as he stared at the ground and suddenly realized: Cole hadn't been talking about Corypheus being there.

He'd been talking about Theo.


	4. The Man in the Garden

_Chapter 4: The Man In the Garden_

While the nobility of Orlais and the selected few of Thedas gathered at the Winter Palace, the elves of Halamshiral skulked about in the city's burned out ruins. Bitter and hungry, they were easy targets to eliminate. No one would miss them, and no one would think to look for the Venatori here.

The Chantry in Halamshiral had been damaged, but was still structurally sound. Leave it to those types, Brabantio thought. Of course they'd build their temples strong enough to withstand anything, while the people around it starved and struggled in squalor. It was large, solemn, and quiet. No one would dare bother them, particularly with the festivities going on.

Festivities. He spit on the tile floor. Poorly disguised political attempts, more like. Even with their masks and their posturing anyone could see that. The small consolation of the night was that any peace that had been reached was tenuous at best, and not destined to last.

The whole night had been a failure.

Celene still lived, and would likely be more heavily protected than ever.

Their Assassin had failed. Granted, he'd faced—and overcome—some of the Inquisition's best before having to abort the mission. And aborting the mission was an option; just not one the Assassin had ever had to utilize. For him to do so, right before the Venatori's greatest strike, reeked of failure.

Brabantio leveled his staff at the Assassin, chained to a heavy gilt chair. His hands clutched the arms of the chair, knuckles white as the chains dug into his wrists and forearms, tight enough to bruise. "Look at me, Assassin."

He didn't move. He kept his head down, dark, sweat-soaked hair falling over his face. Tension was evident in his limbs and while Brabantio knew the chains would hold, for a moment slight fear trickled through him.

"Look at me," Brabantio snapped, overcoming his fear and grabbing a hunk of his hair, yanking his head up. The Assassin's eyes were hazy and confused, not entirely vacant. Brabantio frowned. "Mission report, Assassin."

"Who was the man in the garden?" he asked instead. His voice was soft, almost childlike. He blinked and furrowed his brows as he tried to focus.

Brabantio let him go and instead headed to the door. "Get the Master," he told the guards.

A short time later Brabantio's superior entered. "You were given this task because you showed great promise," he said. "And now it appears you've failed your greatest test."

Brabantio bowed his head in deference. "Magister Alexius. Something unexpected happened. He's unstable. It is beyond my skills. With your guidance I can be successful, if only given one more chance."

Alexius nodded and headed toward the Assassin. When he'd turned Agent for the Inquisition, his contributions had eventually earned their trust, and then a measure of freedom. When the Inquisitor had disappeared, it had caused chaos and he'd allowed them to lose track of him. He grinned. Now he had their precious Inquisitor in chains, at his beck and call. How fitting. Their Maker truly had an ironic sense of humor.

"Speak, Assassin," he said, staring down at him.

The Assassin looked up at him with unfocused eyes. "The mage in the garden?"

"Inquisition. He's also one of their best and most deadly, and should be added to your list of marks."

"But… I knew him." He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists. He twisted his arms in the chains, rubbing them raw. The most recent of his blood magic scars had torn open and blood oozed down the arm of the chair. "He… we were…" He squeezed his eyes closed as he fought his own mind in addition to the restraints. "I know him," he said suddenly, voice clear and confident and he stared at Alexius with wide, focused eyes.

Alexius slapped him across the face with his gauntlet. "He is no more than a target to be eliminated. You are the arm of the Venatori. Your work is a gift to Thedas." He leaned over the Assassin, gently tilting his chin up so he could see his face. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "We can still succeed with the Empress alive. You've done much, but I need you to do more." He withdrew a curved knife from the folds of his robes. The Assassin's eyes widened in fear and he struggled against the chains holding him down.

"Magister, he's been out of stasis too long," Brabantio said nervously. "If we don't get him back to the Still Ruins, if we don't…"

Alexius hit Brabantio with a stunning fist spell, sending the other man flying. "Learn your place," he snapped, before turning back to the Assassin and swiping his knife across his arm.

The Chantry sanctuary filled with his screams as Alexius used his blood to overtake his mind. Alexius smiled. The Maker's sense of humor was nothing compared to the Elder One's vision. The Venatori would succeed. Their Assassin would see to that.

* * *

"He looked right at me and didn't know me," Dorian said yet again, his voice shaking. "I knew blood magic could control minds. My own father tried to do it. But this…" He wiped his eyes. "It's entirely different seeing someone completely under its control."

"Like seeing what you could have been?" Bull's voice was gentle.

"Fuck you. This isn't about me," Dorian snapped. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry. You mean well." Also, Bull had not fared nearly as well as Dorian. In addition to a few deep gashes from Theo's knives, he was also nursing his shattered pride at having been bested by the Venatori's assassin.

"You're upset. I get it," Bull said with a shrug. "I never lost hope that we'd find him. I just never thought it would be this way," he said. His shoulders fell and he closed his eye. He looked defeated, which was never a good sign. "Can it be undone?"

"The theory is there. I never made much of a habit of studying blood magic though," Dorian said, too tired and hurt to even feign offense. "I suppose it could be, but I don't know if it can be done _without more_ blood magic."

Bull nodded. "That's a major line for you," he said. "One you're not willing to cross, even for him?"  
"Please don't ask me to make that decision right now," Dorian said quietly. The familiar heat of tears pulsed behind his eyeballs once more.

Bull surprised him by dropping a big hand on his shoulder and squeezing. The gesture was comforting. "I'm not asking you to make it now. But where we're going? He'll be there. And that may be a line you'll have to consider."

Dorian didn't trust his voice so he just shoved Bull's hand off of him and turned his back so the Qunari couldn't see him on the verge of another breakdown. Bull left his tent and Dorian let the tears flow.

On Morrigan's advice they were traveling to the Arbor Wilds, where she believed an Elven artifact existed. It made sense that it would be Corypheus's next target, especially with the failed assassination attempt on Celene's life. But if Corypheus wanted it, the Venatori would be there. And with them, Theo. Of course the Maker would delight in such disgusting irony.

"He doesn't know what he's doing," Cole said quietly, appearing beside Dorian.

Dorian couldn't even be surprised or angry at Cole's sudden appearances. "I know."

"If he ever does, it will break him."

"I know."

"You want to save him."

"Yes."

"Fumbling, falling, fading, the stones start to slide, he starts to fall and when he wakes he should be dead, but he's not. He can't be grateful because they're cutting, carving, hollowing him out and filling him with themselves."

"Please stop," Dorian finally said.

"He's still in there," Cole told him. "He's not gone. He can come back. He won't be the same; no one can be the same. But he's there and can come back."

Cole vanished. As the darkness fell and camp fires were started, voices came and went outside Dorian's tent. He knew there were strategy meetings to attend, but he couldn't make himself do it, even though it was what Theo would have wanted. Cole's words should have given him comfort, but it made him feel even more overwhelmed. Theo was there, inside the deadly shell they'd created. But getting him out… it might require crossing lines, and Dorian didn't know what he was prepared to do. Even if it meant saving the man he loved.


	5. End of the Line

_Chapter 5: End of the Line_

The Arbor Wilds echoed with the call of birds and the dappled sunlight shining through the ancient trees made the place seem deceptively peaceful. The woods were teeming with red templars and Venatori agents, and Inquisition scouts reported rumors of Corypheus himself coming to claim the Elven relic.

"Dorian," Bull began as they stood before the Temple of Mythal, frozen in time, as if it hadn't been touched since the times of the ancient elves. Dorian sighed. "Hear me out," Bull said. "I know what he means to you, but you may not be able to save him. You can only stop him."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Dorian hated saying it, but he'd spent sleepless nights in camp considering what it would cost to free Theo of his blood magic chains. He'd cursed himself for not learning more from Alexius, for not at least studying the theories, for everything, really. It all felt like his fault. He replayed the night in Adamant over and over in his mind. He thought if he'd run faster, if he'd cast a spell, if he'd done anything other than just reach out, maybe he'd have saved Theo from falling and becoming _that_.

In the end he had to accept that none of that had happened, and that Bull spoke the reality loud and clear. Theo could be beyond saving.

Cullen's forces had drawn the red templar guards away from the temple, leaving Dorian, Bull, Morrigan, and Cole to access the temple itself. The Chargers would follow and hold the gate, and any forces Cullen could spare after his ruse would come back to assist them. Dorian didn't know what they were looking for. "Elvish artifact" was a very broad category, and as they stole through the quiet temple Dorian had no idea what to look for, and if any number of forces could get it out.

Morrigan paused by a fresco depicting ancient elves. Her lips moved as she concentrated on reading it. "Vir'Abelasan," she murmured. "The way of sorrow."

Bull grunted. "Seems to me like some musty old artifacts wouldn't be worth sorrow."

"For the elves of old, sorrow was the way of things," Morrigan told him. "And sorrow means many things: sorry for oneself, for circumstances, for the sake of nostalgia… it's not merely personal pain."

Sorrow. That was it. Dorian was mourning someone who wasn't even dead. He was mourning a choice he wasn't sure he could make.

They delved deeper into the temple. The lack of opposition was more concerning than anything, and when they finally reached the arching gates leading out to a courtyard, they understood why. The Venatori were already there, and their prized Assassin—Theo Trevelyan—was finishing off the last of the elven guards.

"Hey Boss, wanna knock that shit off?" Bull bellowed, swinging his maul off his back and hefting it in his hands. The look on his face was downright dangerous. Next to him Cole flipped his daggers out of his belt holsters.

"You hurt my friend," the spirit-boy accused and for one moment Dorian feared he was talking to Theo, about Bull. But Cole looked past Theo, who'd drawn two fresh daggers from the harness about his shoulders, to the Venatori behind him.

The man held out his hand. He was grinning. "Assassin, give me your hand," he ordered, and Theo, without turning his gaze off of Dorian, held out his left arm. The Venatori dragged his curved knife over Theo's arm. Bright red blood bubbled up through the split skin. He murmured unintelligible words that Dorian only recognized as ancient Tevene, hardly even related to the modern tongue he'd grown up speaking. Theo's blood diffused into a fine mist that swirled around his head. His eyes became deep, dark pools vacant of all emotion except bloodlust. "Assassin, finish them," he said.

Theo launched himself at Bull, but Bull never forgot an attacker's patterns, and sidestepped. Theo didn't let the misdirection confuse him, instead continuing on his trajectory, daggers aimed at Cole. "Inside, he's inside, he can't come out to play because the locks are too strong but he's inside," Cole said over and over as he bobbed and wove, striking out with his own knives at Theo. "Don't make me hurt you!" the spirit begged.

"You can't hurt me anymore than I've already been hurt," Theo snarled. He danced with his daggers, his access to the Fade and the weak line between worlds, especially here in these ruins, making him faster and even more deadly.

"Challenge accepted," Bull roared, and appeared behind Theo, maul raised.

"NO!" Dorian shouted, unable to help himself.

Bull swung the maul and Cole winked out of sight. Theo tried to step out of the way, but the maul caught him in the back and sent him flying. He smashed against the tiled wall and slid to the ground. Bull wiped his face with the back of his hand and let the maul drop with a resounding thud.

Theo lay trembling on the cool stone floor. Dorian approached, staff held out. Part of him hoped Theo was just dead and this was the end of it. Theo rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Dorian pointed his staff at his lover. "Stop," he said quietly. "Don't move."

Theo was breathing heavily, sweat and blood dripping from his face and arm. "Or what?" he asked. "It's too late."

The roar of Corypheus shattered the silence. Dorian looked up, panicked, and realized Morrigan wasn't there. He looked outside to see her stepping into a waist-deep pool of water with a shimmering Eluvian behind it. Theo was laughing. "The Elder One will triumph and you will all die," he said, finally looking up at them.

"You don't really believe that," Dorian said. "You were once a beacon of hope. You and I…"

For one moment he thought he saw a flicker in those wild eyes. "You oppose the Elder One, and for that you will die," Theo said instead. He pushed himself to his feet and lunged for Dorian. Dorian dropped his staff. He stared at Theo as he came at him, knife raised overhead. In a last ditch, half-hearted effort to survive, Dorian flung his arm before his face. He felt the hot sting of the blade as it cut nearly to the bone, felt the cool hardness of stone as he fell back with Theo on top of him.

It would be so easy to give in and die now.

Then he opened his eyes and saw the blood oozing down his own arm and realized how easy it would be to just turn things around, use his own blood to help Theo regain himself. If it was his own blood, would it be so bad?

Theo glared down at Dorian and reached for his throat with his sparking, green-marked hand. Dorian blocked him with his bleeding arm.

There was an explosion of green that blasted Theo off of him. He slid across the floor, holding his hand to his chest. He breathed heavily, staring out at Dorian through the dark tangles of hair hanging in his face. He blinked.

Dorian winced as he got to his feet. He clutched his own heavily bleeding arm and staggered over to Theo. He looked down at the Assassin. At the Inquisitor. At his Theo Trevelyan. So easy. But changing Theo with his own blood would be no different from what the Venatori had done.

"I won't cross that line," he told Theo, dropping his injured arm to his side. "But I will follow you to the end of the line, _Amatus._ Wherever it may be."

Theo stared up at him, eyes wide and uncertain. His nostrils flared slightly. "Don't… don't call me that," he whispered.

There was a pounding on the door, as of a battering ram… or an angry ancient magister-turned-darkspawn. "Call it, Dorian," Bull said. "We have to go."

"Where?" Dorian asked.

"The mirror thing," Bull said, gazing down to where Morrigan was waving. The eluvian shimmered. "What about him?" He looked down at Theo.

"Grab him," Dorian said decisively.

Bull scooped Theo up and slung him over his back like a parent might do to a recalcitrant child. They hurried down to the now dry well and the eluvian and had nearly made it when Bull cried out in pain and fell to one knee.

"Theo! _Amatus,_ no!" Dorian yelled as Theo yanked his stiletto out of Bull's back and landed agilely on his feet. He gave Dorian one sorrowful look before dropping a glass flask on the stones. Smoke billowed up in the breeze.

Dorian was still yelling for him when Bull and Cole shoved him through the eluvian.


	6. Chasing the Ghost

_Chapter 6: Chasing the Ghost_

Everyone was angry.

Bull, for being stabbed in the back, literally.

Leliana, because once again, Morrigan had outplayed her.

Cole, from the confusion he felt at fighting a friend.

Cullen, for being left alone in the Wilds.

Josephine, for having to keep everything together when there was no Inquisitor, and their allies were beginning to see through their cracks.

Cassandra and Varric, for feeling powerless to do anything.

Only Solas didn't seem angry, more thoughtful than anything, and that made everyone around him even angrier.

Dorian wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. Sorrow. Morrigan had drunk from the Well of Sorrows, which, it turned out, had been Corypheus's true objective. By drinking of it she'd deprived the enemy of his weapon. But that didn't make up for losing Theo again.

Even the Venatori scouts they intercepted didn't know anything about the Assassin. Bull himself interrogated them, utilizing Ben-Hassrath methods that turned Dorian's stomach. But there was one who, through the screams and cries for mercy, finally broke down. "Still Ruins," he sobbed as blood gurgled in his throat.

Leliana straightened up. "Maker's breath," she said, her light blue eyes wide. "That's in the Western Approach. Not far from Adamant. He was there the whole time we were looking at the beginning."

"But is he there now?" Bull asked no one in particular. The Venatori had died.

"It's a place to start," Dorian said.

"I'll send Harding and Charter to scout the ruins," Leliana offered, resting her hand on Dorian's bandaged arm.

Dorian shook his head. "Thank you, but no. With the Inquisition's leave, I'd rather do this independently." He looked up and saw Bull and Cole (who had the strangest habit of appearing out of nowhere) nodding, grim expressions on their faces. A pang stabbed him in the chest. "You don't have to come with me."

The corner of Bull's mouth quirked upward in a half-smile. "When do we start?"

* * *

The last time they'd been in the Western Approach the Inquisition had been on a high: they'd taken Griffon Wing Keep. They were on the verge of stopping the Venatori plans to ruin the Grey Wardens. It had all changed in one night.

Griffon Wing Keep remained a thriving Inquisition outpost, but Dorian had no desire to stay there. Not only were the memories painfully nostalgic; but to be there would be to alert any Venatori in the area of their plans. Dorian was glad to do the Inquisition's work, but this business was personal.

He wouldn't say it, because he had too much pride, but he was grateful that Bull and Cole had come along. They set up a small camp in a copse of scraggly desert brush near a shallow watering hole, not far from the place marked on their map. Bull kept eyeing him across their camp fire and Dorian sighed. "I don't know what I hope to find, let alone what I expect to find," he finally said, unable to stand the stares anymore. "Perhaps I just want answers."

"Fair enough," Bull said. "It's the best lead we got."

"The only lead," Cole said, strolling out from behind a dune. "I can't hear. It's too quiet, or there's too much noise."

Normally Cole disconcerted Bull, but this time Bull was listening closely and carefully watching Cole's movements. "Blood. Destroy the blood and you'll destroy the silence and the noise," Cole said at last. He stopped pacing and sat down at the fireside with Bull and Dorian. "They hurt my friend," he said again. "I want them dead."

Bull grinned. "Just make sure you leave some for me, kid," he said.

"Even after he stabbed you in the back? Literally?" Dorian asked.

Instantly the grin fell. "That wasn't him, Dorian," Bull said.

It made Dorian giddy with relief to hear that. He knew he should have trusted Bull, but hearing him say it gave Dorian peace knowing that Bull wasn't just along for revenge.

Upon the next nightfall the trio made their way to the Still Ruins. There were no guards, which Bull found suspicious. Dorian didn't like it either, but his nerves were raw and on edge and he didn't want to fight more than he had to. Already he feared what he would find, and already he'd steeled himself to do anything he had to, other than blood magic. It hadn't been an easy choice, but he'd finally promised himself, and Theo—the real Theo—that, if the worst should happen, he would give him peace.

But he'd also been working on other spells not in his usual repertoire, so hopefully it would not come to that.

The doors opened on well-oiled, silent hinges and they entered the moonlit ruins. Bull gave a low whistle and Cole whimpered. Dorian clenched his teeth and pushed forward through the still sands and silent air. There was magic here: strong magic, old magic, blood magic. All of it wafted on the air in the temple. The Veil was thin, but nothing pulsed on the other side. Time stood still in here.

They pushed forward and began to hear shouting, and the sounds of fighting coming from up ahead. Dorian wanted to run, but Bull gripped the back of his robes and held him back. Cole slipped on ahead, zipping in and out of the Fade as he went.

They emerged in a small courtyard, covered in sand. An ornately carved staircase led up to an open door. At the base of the staircase, Theo was fighting a Venatori. When Dorian got closer he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his gasp. Alexius.

Alexius waved his staff and a golden dome appeared over him; inside of it, he seemed to move more quickly, making the fight more evenly matched for the supernaturally quick Theo. He moved around him, feinting and dodging and at last swept his staff under Theo's feet. Theo sprawled face down in the sand and Alexius planted his boot between his shoulder blades. "You couldn't just go quietly," he said, shaking his head. "Now you'll need to do as you're told." He slipped a vial from his belt pouch.

Theo could see it out of the corner of his eye, and writhed more forcefully in the sand. "I'm not your pet anymore," he snapped, trying to roll out of the way.

"Alexius, stop!" Dorian shouted.

Alexius looked over at them. "I believed not saving Felix was my final failure," he said. "I had nothing to live for, and then your silly Inquisition all but delivered _him_ to me. The Elder One had great plans for him, and the Venatori have seen them through!" He twisted the vial between his fingers. In the light of the moon and the torches burning around the perimeter, its contents looked black, but the way Theo eyed it with panic, Dorian realized it was blood. Theo's blood.

"While the south is backward and fearful of magic, they did have something going with their idea of phylacteries," Alexius continued. "Primitive in their usage, yes, and based on fear. It took the Venatori to see the true potential."

Dorian's stomach turned. All of the scars on Theo's arm, they didn't just bleed him when they were ready for him. They bled him to save his blood. To make phylacteries with which to control him at any moment. His mind whirled. Just how many were there? Could they all be destroyed, or had the Venatori had the foresight to distribute Theo's blood throughout their ranks?

"Why here?" Dorian asked, hoping to stall for time. He tried to see any flicker to indicate that Cole was nearby.

"The spells of stasis in this place are easy to replicate. One thing I will say about our Assassin: he's quite stubborn. He doesn't have enough blood in his body to use in the control rituals. So when he's not needed, we put him away. Like you would with any _thing_." He spat the last word and ground his boot deeper into Theo's back.

"You. Hurt. My. _Friend."_ Cole's voice was frightening and loud as he suddenly appeared, driving his daggers at Alexius. He caught the Magister on the shoulder, and his blood began to soak through his tunic.

"Assassin! Protect me!" he shouted, and snapped the vial in his hand. Blood oozed over his fingers.

For one moment Theo lay in the sand. Then he pushed himself to his feet and strode over to Cole, shoving the spirit boy off of Alexius. Cole fought like a whirlwind. Dorian began chanting his spell. He tried not to think of Theo, out of his mind from the blood. Or of Alexius, laughing and praising the Elder One. He'd never been a good Spirit mage. He had one chance, and he could easily do more harm than good. And if that were the case, he'd have to kill Theo anyway.

Bull had traded his maul for an axe this outing and he swung hard. Cole blinked out of existence and Theo dove out of the way. Sand clung to his left arm where the blood was still wet, and his hand glowed and threw off green sparks. He tried to get in to protect Alexius, but Cole kept him away. Eventually Bull swung his axe once more and severed Alexius's head from his body. The blood soaked the sand.

Theo stopped and stared at Bull with hatred in his eyes. He stalked toward Bull.

"Dorian… anytime now," Bull called, wary as Theo circled him.

Dorian watched Bull pivot slowly. He held his breath as Theo walked around him, knives bared like fangs.

"Now." Cole whispered it in his ear. Startled, Dorian let the spell fly. He wanted to close his eyes. He was afraid what Bull would do to him if the spell caught him. He was angry at Cole for startling him into casting.

But the spell flew strong, and suddenly Theo fell onto his knees in the sand, clutching his head and whimpering, pathetic and high-pitched like a kicked puppy. He looked up at Bull, who stood over him. Bull smiled. "Morning, Boss," he said, before striking him in the temple. Theo fell over in the sand, unconscious, but breathing.

Dorian, Bull, and Cole all sighed at the same time. They'd caught their ghost. Now it was time to see just how much of the real Theo Trevelyan was left inside.


	7. The Real You

_Chapter 7: The Real You_

"Dorian. Over here."

Dorian felt like he was climbing out of sleep. It was an effort to open his eyes and his mouth felt full of sand. It was highly likely that was indeed the case. His head throbbed and his limbs were heavy. It was possible that he'd expended too much mana in his mind blast attack earlier, but it was also more probable that he was just too damned tired after everything they'd been through.

He stumbled out of his bedroll and paused at the ewer to rinse his mouth out and splash some cold water on his face. They'd moved their camp to the Still Ruins and, after clearing out every last Venatori, commandeered the facility. He'd never been so happy to see water in his life.

Bull was in the next chamber over. The morning sun shone through cracks in the ceiling. Motes of dust floated in the air. The spells that lent the Still Ruins their name remained intact. Bull leaned against a pillar, arms crossed over his bulky chest, single eye focused on Theo.

"Is this really necessary?" Dorian asked quietly. Theo was chained against the wall, barely able to stand. His head lolled against his chest and he groaned softly.

"Until we know what… or who we're dealing with? Yes," Bull said. But there was some sympathy on that otherwise impassive face.

"Did Cole get anything?" Dorian asked, crossing his arms as well. His hands shook slightly, and he could feel the buzz of mana beneath his skin. His nerves were frayed and he didn't know who would lose control first: Bull, Theo, or himself. It was a frightening standoff.

Bull shook his head. "Not for lack of trying. Whatever they did to him… not good."

Dorian nodded and took a deep breath. He made himself take a few steps closer to Theo. "Do you know me?" he asked.

Theo didn't struggle in his chains. He picked his head up and stared at Dorian. His eyes were confused, and he tried to focus. "You're Dorian," he said at last in a soft voice. "Your mother's name is Aquinea, of House Thalrassian. She taught you about wine when you were twelve. It was the only way you could bond with her, and even that didn't last." He smiled suddenly. "And you have a snake tattoo on your right hip."

Dorian actually blushed, and nearly collapsed with the wave of relief that crashed over him. "Bull. Let him down."

Bull raised his eyebrow. "Just like that we're supposed to be good?"

Dorian was still shaky, but he approached Theo and lifted his chin. It felt amazing to touch him, even so slightly, after the months apart. He met Theo's eyes and searched them. Theo stared back, his green eyes becoming more focused with each moment. "Dorian," he murmured. "Maker's breath, Dorian, what have I done?" He took in a shuddering breath and looked away, his lank hair falling into his face. He twisted his arms in the shackles and his marked hand began to spark.

"Bull, let him down _now_ ," Dorian snapped.

Bull unlocked the shackles and Theo collapsed; Dorian caught him. He would never forget the feel of Theo's body in his arms, but this was different. He was leaner, more wiry and angular. He clutched his glowing hand to his body. "I guess sorry doesn't cut it?" he finally asked.

Dorian held him close. "You don't need to apologize." Theo struggled out of his grip and sat down on the stone floor. He stared at his hand and the many scars that covered his arm, some fresh. Dorian took a deep breath. "All those things you did… they were controlling you with blood magic. You didn't know what you were doing."

"But I still did it."

Cole appeared in front of him and rested his hand on Theo's head. "You don't have to remember."

Theo tensed and scrambled backward. "Yes! Yes, I do! I spent months not thinking, not remembering… and now I can… I have to!" His green eyes were wide, his nostrils flared as he stared up at Cole in panic. "And all they need is a vial of my Maker-damned blood to start it all over again."

"How many are there?" Bull asked.

"I destroyed what I could find here, before Alexius showed up. He had the one on him. They were running out when we made it to the Arbor Wilds. I knew they'd be back here, waiting for me… so I killed them," he said. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. "I'm not worth all this," he said in a muffled voice.

Cole knelt beside him and wrapped him in a hug. Theo tensed. "I won't make you forget unless you want me to. And you don't," he said. He smiled. "I can hear you." Then Cole looked to Dorian. "He wants to be alone with you."

Bull narrowed his eye. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's fine," Dorian said. He ached to be alone with Theo, to hold him and reassure him. "And if it isn't, I might have another mind blast in me."

"So that's what you hit me with?" Theo asked when Bull and Cole left. He rubbed his head. "It felt… well, it got them out."

"And without blood magic to counter what they'd already done," Dorian said. "I meant it when I said I'd follow you to the end of the line if it meant seeing you restored… or at least at peace." He didn't have to say what he meant by _that_. "I've seen a fair share of blood magic in my time," he said. "Blood magic of that level, done by mages with that much power… very few ever recover." He leveled his gaze at Theo.

"I'm stubborn?" Theo said. "I always have been." He gazed around the chamber. "When I first woke up here I can't even begin to describe how I fought and what they had to do. When the magic started messing with my mind, and when it wouldn't stick forever, they had to keep me here in some sort of stasis spell."

"And you never stopped fighting."

Theo shook his head. "What did you tell me, when we faced your father? Living a lie festers inside and you have to fight for who you are?" He bit his lip. "Maker, I missed you, Dorian. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Stop bloody apologizing," Dorian snapped, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "If you're going to apologize for anything, say you're sorry about your hair."

Theo's laugh was more beautiful than music. "Yeah, my looks weren't really a Venatori priority." He reached out his hand, and Dorian took it. "But really, Dorian, thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me, even when you saw what I'd become."

Dorian squeezed his hand before pulling him in and cuddling him close. "I would never give up on you. I always saw the real you, from the first day I met you. It will take time for you to process this. But you're still the Theo I fell in love with. You always have been. And always will be."

Theo looked up at him through his long lashes, wet with unshed tears. "Dorian… this is the first time you said you loved me."

"I should have said it sooner. But believe me, it won't be the last." He helped Theo to his feet. "How did you know about the snake tattoo?" he asked suddenly.

"I saw it when you were changing one night in camp," Theo said, blushing. "I never told you I did because…I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

"I guess I was ready," Dorian said with a chuckle as they headed out to meet up with Bull and Cole, and head back home.


	8. Crumbling From Within

_Chapter 8:_ _Crumbling From Within_

They approached Skyhold under cover of darkness. Cole knew all the passageways and secret doors, and he guided them through the shadows and cobwebs into a spare room. "I don't want to see anyone yet," Theo said, shaking his head when Dorian suggested going to his quarters. "I still feel like I'd be a better ghost than a human."

"People will see you and feel you. They will remember you. They don't remember ghosts," Cole said. "I was one. And then I became. You will become."

Theo managed a smile. "Will you stay?" He asked Dorian quietly.

"As if I'd let you be alone," Dorian scoffed. He gestured for Theo to sit on the bed and then knelt behind him and produced an ivory comb. "I'll be damned to the Void if I let people see you like this," he said, and gently began to work out the tangles in his dark hair. Cole had brought fresh clothes and he kept the servant staff distracted as he ran a bath.

Theo stripped down to his smallclothes. He was covered in various bruises and scars and he grimaced when he slipped into the bathwater. He rubbed at the mark branded into his left shoulder. "I suppose there's no getting rid of this?" he asked.

Dorian shook his head. "No. But let's say for the sake of argument that, since it's the sigil of Tevinter, it just marks you as being loved by a Tevinter." He tried to smile, but knew that they'd both be reminded of Theo's ordeal every time they saw it. There would be no covering or erasing those scars.

After Theo was clean and had shaved, and his long hair was tied back out of his face, they climbed into bed together. "Someone might snap a vial of blood in the middle of the night, and I'll try to kill you," he told Dorian. It was only when Dorian met his eyes in the fading candlelight that he realized Theo was serious. He clutched his glowing hand into a fist. "You should have left me in the Still Ruins," he whispered. "I can't trust myself. It would have been better for everyone." _Including me,_ he seemed to add.

Dorian wrapped him in his arms. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Between Cole and Dorian they were able to sort out enough of what was in Theo's mind to ensure he'd be safe from himself, and around others, and a day later Bull brought Leliana down. Dorian held his breath, unsure what to expect. Leliana stopped in the doorway and gasped audibly. Theo looked up from his perch on the bed and nodded his greeting.

"Maker," she breathed. "It's a good thing you didn't tell Josephine yet," she said.

"I don't know if I want to go back to the world yet. If ever," Theo said quietly. "I don't think Orlais will take kindly to the fact that the Inquisitor was the one who tried to kill their Empress." He shook his head. "Please, don't try to rationalize it. I'm having a swell enough time beating myself up over it."

Leliana's face broke into a smile and she surprised him by striding over and folding her arms around him. "Welcome home, Theo," she said.

Over the next few days more of the inner circle came, one by one, to welcome Theo home. He was overwhelmed and embarrassed, but he'd always been that way when the center of attention. And then the day came when he donned a hooded cloak and a pair of thick leather gloves and asked for a bow.

Dorian wanted to cry.

He accompanied Theo to the archery range set up down near the stables and watched as his love strung a bow, then nocked an arrow and fired. He missed, but only that first time. After a few shots, Dorian could almost see a slight smile, a real smile, on Theo's face. He wanted to throw himself at him and smother him with fierce kisses, but there were people gathered to watch the mysterious, hooded archer, and he would not reveal Theo in that way. The Inquisitor would have to do that in his own time.

Even if that meant never.

* * *

"Corypheus is going to make his next move soon," Cullen said. "We thwarted him in the Arbor Wilds, and now he… well, doesn't have you," he said, nodding apologetically to Theo, who just shrugged. He'd managed to sneak into the War Room for a late night Council.

"You've forced him to move up his timetable," Morrigan said, leaning against a stone pillar and lazily gripping her staff.

"Or you did, by drinking from the Well of Sorrow yourself," Solas snapped.

"Stop and think what he wanted from the Well," Dorian said. "Knowledge. Power. The ability to walk into the Fade and tear the world down. Starting with us," he said suddenly.

All eyes landed on Theo, who closed his eyes and sighed. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously wriggling the fingers of his left hand. "I didn't have a master plan before any of this happened. I sure as hell don't have a plan now," he said. "My plan was get away from the Venatori. That's all."

"Perhaps we can—" Josephine began. Then a violently bright acid green flash filled the sky outside Skyhold's windows.

Theo cried out and fell back on the floor, gripping his wrist and trying to breathe through the pain his hand was causing him. The leather glove he wore over his mark was smoking, burning away from the heat of the magic. The initial reaction was for everyone to rush toward him. "Stay back!" he screamed. Tears streamed down his face and his breath hitched in his lungs. Bright green rays shot out from his fingertips and he tried to clench his hand into a fist. He gnashed his teeth at the green light and fought the magic and suddenly his hand closed and the green light faded.

Stubborn indeed.

He got to his knees. "We have to take the fight to Corypheus. He's in Haven again," he said, a worried expression on his otherwise grim face. "Fucking Venatori. I'm still linked to them."

"Don't worry about that now," Dorian said. "Stay here. We'll deal with him."

Theo shook his head, strands of dark hair slipping from the hair tie and framing his gaunt, pale face. "No, Dorian." He took a deep breath. "I have to do this," he announced to everyone. "I'm the only one who can."

Time was not on their side as they raced to get into armor and find weapons. Their horses were barely saddled when they descended into the yard. Theo hadn't bothered to cloak himself, and there were stunned gasps and terrified screams as he pushed through the crowds. He kept his eyes forward, but Dorian could see how their fear and disgust pained him.

They rode toward Haven, eventually dismounting and sending their horses back through the mountains when the terrain got too treacherous. The closer they got to Corypheus, the more Theo staggered, guarding his left arm against his torso. A sickly glow had begun to envelop the limb and his face was sallow and drawn.

Huge red lyrium crystals jutted up out of the mountains as they approached Corypheus, who seemed to be waiting for them. "Welcome home, my child," he said to Theo when they appeared before him.

Theo glared at the ancient madman. "I'm not your child," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"Are you not? Through my magic I've made you more than you ever could have hoped. You survived the unsurvivable because of my Venatori. You are alive because of me." Corypheus smiled. "And you will return to my side." He reached into his tattered robes with his gnarled claws and pulled out a vial filled with blood.

"Well, shit," Varric murmured.

It was a bit of an understatement.

Corypheus snapped the vial in two and waved his hands in a circle. The blood droplets formed a fine mist that swirled into a sphere. He chanted the ancient Tevene words, malevolent dark eyes fixed on Theo.

Theo's left arm snapped down to his side. He shook his head and pounded at his temple with his right hand, trying to keep Corypheus out of his mind. His pupils dilated until his eyes were nearly black, and in spite of whatever tremendous pain his hand caused him, he relaxed.

Without warning he swept his leg out under Cole, spinning around him and grabbing his knives out of his holsters as he fell. He danced and sliced and struck with fierceness, holding them at bay from attacking Corypheus.

The ancient darkspawn stood in a storm of stone and red lyrium and green light, hands raised to the heavens. A glowing orb was attracting the energy around it and shooting a beam of focused magical energy up to the swirling clouds.

Dorian knew he _had_ to believe in the Maker; how else could Theo have been returned to him after Adamant, and after what the Venatori had done to him? His mana was dissipating quickly as he fought off attacks. Everything would end here, with or without him. With or without Theo. If he couldn't bring him back, he could bring him peace.

He leveled his staff at Theo and focused his energy on the spirits. He gathered all his mana and shot a powerful mind blast at him.

Theo reeled from the shock of the spell. Dorian fell to his knees, spent. "Your Inquisition has already failed! Your empire has fallen!" Corypheus shouted.

For one moment all stood still; even the maelstrom of magic seemed to pause. Theo blinked and his eyes focused. His hand was a blinding beacon at his side. He smiled slightly at Dorian, as if to say "Thank you." Then he flung his hand up toward the orb.

The world went white and Dorian wasn't sure who was screaming. He just kept praying to the Maker. He didn't know what he prayed for, only that he prayed.


	9. Epilogue: Let Them Try

_Epilogue: Let Them Try_

 _Six months later_

The early morning mist rolled off the Nocen Sea and into the Minrathous streets. It was quiet at this time of day, but for the bakers opening their shops and the small cafes brewing coffee and tea. It was Dorian's favorite time of day, when he would stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows in his apartments and look out over the city and breathe in the air of home.

"You're certain you don't miss Skyhold?" he asked, still staring into the cobblestone streets.

Theo padded up beside him, dressed in loose silk trousers that he'd worn to bed. "I still can't believe you brought me to Tevinter. You know they'll come for me if they find out I'm here."

Dorian turned to face Theo. He brushed a wayward strand of hair out of his eyes. "Let them try," he said with a smile, but they both knew he was adept at magical traps, and was prepared to face anyone that might come looking for Theo. "Does it hurt you at all?" he asked, hand hovering over Theo's arm.

Theo's smile was genuine, slightly crinkling the corners of his eyes. "For the first time since the Conclave I don't think about it."

When he'd reached out for Corypheus's orb that day on the mountainside, the energy of the green mark had become too much for him, and control became impossible to sustain. Even when he used his power to shatter the orb, and Corypheus was sucked into the Void, the magic had continued to devour his arm. Bull had used his own axe to, literally, disarm Theo. Dorian had cauterized the wound with his fire magic. And in the aftermath of that battle, they'd made their decision and headed for the Tevinter Imperium.

"Bull sent a message," Theo said. "The Chargers are tracking down the last of the Venatori, and keeping an eye out for any of my blood they may have lying around," he added grimly.

"And I'm working on legislation to topple those that remain here in the government," Dorian reassured him. He pulled Theo into a hug. "You're safe here, _Amatus."_

"You called me that in the Temple of Mythal," Theo murmured. "What does it mean?"

"My love," Dorian told him, kissing his forehead.

"You know I can't trust what's in my own mind," Theo told him.

"But I can trust you," Dorian said. "I meant it. I will be with you until the end of the line, regardless of how long that line is."

There would always be the uncertainty and the fear of Venatori sleeper agents activating the blood magic that turned Theo into a mindless soldier for their cause. There would always be the scars and the brand marking him. But there would also always be Theo's stubborn will, and Dorian's devotion.

Inquisition, Orlesian or Fereldan forces; Chantry armies or Venatori. They would be ready. But until then, there were misty mornings in Minrathous, and the hope for a calmer, brighter future ahead.


End file.
